Teddybear
by knockoutmouse
Summary: Toki is having a bad day, as is everyone else in Mordhaus. He gets depressed. Skwisgaar comforts him. Oneshot. Angst in a sorta fluffy way. No real sex involved. T for language.


**A/N:**

**1)** Contains profanity, very mild violence, and of course, slash, but not much sex. Also, Emo!Toki. Not what I intended to write, just what happened.

**2)** Regarding the worst of the profanity: Sorry. I wrote this late at night and Nathan got possessed by Dumbledore there for a minute.

**3)** Inspired by the song _Teddybär_ by Die Ärzte. And, to some degree (albeit unplanned) by that most notorious of all fanfics, _My Immortal_.

**Disclaimer:** Characters belong to Small and Blacha, song lyrics belong on Die Ärzte. Don't sue me, please.

_Ooo o mein Teddy, kannst du mir verzeihn...Knopfaugen blicken mich traurig an..._

_~Ooo o my Teddy, can you forgive me...Button eyes gaze sadly at me...~___

Toki crept dejectedly into his room, barely bothering to shut the door behind him. He did so only to provide a modicum of deterrence should one of the others come along and get the idea of coming in.

He'd had a terrible day.

First, over breakfast, he'd gotten in a fight with Skwisgaar, all because of a stupid joke he'd made that had only come out as insulting in his broken English as the blonde had reached for an unheard-of second piece of toast.

"Wowee, Skwisgaar, _two_ pieces of toasts todays," Toki had said. "You ams will be getting fats if you keeps dat ups."

"Pfft. Unslikelies," he snorted.

"Or maysbies it ams like opposites of morning sickness. You are pregnants like de ladies," giggled the Norwegian.

"Am nots ladies! Shuts up, stupids dildos!" Skwisgaar had shouted.

"You shuts up, Skwisggar!" Toki had shouted in return.

"Both of you shut up!" growled Nathan, who was still hung over from the night before.

"Eh, c'mon, Nate, they're just havin fun," slurred Pickles, who was still drunk from the night before.

"He ams starting it!" pouted Toki.

"Toki," said Nathan slowly, "I don't care who am—who started it," he corrected himself, rubbing his temples, "but some of us have a headache, and don't, uh, appreciate shouting at this time in the afternoon."

"Ja, goes and practices your dildos guitar somewheres, like elsewheres," sneered the Swede. "You ams needing all the practice you cans get."

"Dat ams not nice, Skwisgaar!"

"Ha! You ams calling me de ladies! That ams nice, ja?"

"Look, douschebags," said Murderface, looking pained that he had to pause in the midst of that day's artistic endeavor, namely, carving obscene words into the surface of the dining table. "If you aren't going to schut up, then get out. That meansch you, Toki. And alscho you, Schkwischgaar."

"Stupids dildos," muttered Skwisgaar as he passed Toki on the way out of the dining room.

Toki had gone then to the living room and tried to play DDR, but managed to land on his knee wrong early into the second round, in a way that made it painful to continue. Sulking, he retired to the sofa, where he tried to practice guitar, only to find that his fingers were clumsy that morning.

"Oh noes, Skwisgaar ams right. Mine guitarsplaying is dildos."

"What're ya whinin about, dood?" asked Pickles, wandering into the room with his after-breakfast screwdriver.

"I cannots plays de guitars," he said, downcast.

"Hey, kid, it's okey," giggled the drummer as he collapsed onto the sofa. "We all know dat already." His giggling became near hysteria as he apparently found his own remark terribly amusing.

"Fines," said Toki, "I will goes and practice somewheres else."

"Hey," called Pickles as the guitarist stalked out of the room, but to no avail. "Hey, dood, it was a joke." He giggled some more and then promptly fell asleep.

After that, Toki had tried to get Murderface to help him write a song, but the bassist had been in an utterly black mood, first telling him to "pisch off" and then, when Toki had thought he wasn't serious, telling him again, only _louder_. When Toki still hadn't heeded, and had had the unfortunate idea to ask him just how he had gotten that cut on his arm, Murderface had leaned in with a desperate, maniacal grin and run his knifeblade lightly yet threateningly down the younger man's cheek and then his arm, pressing a little too hard toward the end and leaving a red line down Toki's wrist, which had faded into a shallow half-healed scratch after a few hours. Toki had gotten the hint after that, and made himself scarce.

At least, that's what he'd tried to do. It seemed like everywhere he went, someone was there who didn't want him around for whatever reason. Pickles was trying to sleep in the living room. Skwisgaar was in the studio with Knubbler, working out a new guitar part. Nathan was in the basement, gathering inspiration among the rats and spiders for some particularly brutal new lyrics.

Toki hadn't been aware of this, and had tromped gaily down the stairs, thinking at that moment that he could finally be alone, only to be greeted by the singer snarling, "_What the hell are you doing, motherfucker?_"

"N—Nat'ans?"

"Oh. Toki," he said sheepishly. "Sorry about the _motherfucker_, I still have a headache."

"Dat ams okay. I wills be going."

"Uh, just, like, knock next time, okay?" mumbled the singer. "I was trying to concentrate, and you, uh, startled me. And I have a headache," he reiterated, looking as if he were ready to detach his own skull in order to get rid of it.

Toki sighed and climbed the stairs, his heart weary although he'd been up only a few hours so far. Now he did want company, he decided.

Offdensen was in his office. Toki had tried to go for a lamps meeting, but the manager had sighed and explained that he was sorry, but he _was_ quite busy at the moment, and if it wasn't urgent—no? Then would Toki please find something else to occupy himself?

So Toki had gone to the kitchen, thinking that some candy might cheer him up, only to be informed by Jean-Pierre that they were out of candy. Completely out.

"Ze shipment, it should arrive today, my lord," the chef rasped.

"Oh," said Toki, and sighed.

"Somezing ze matter, my lord?"

"No—it ams just, ams there any cats around here?"

"Certainly not, my lord. Ze cats, zey are most unhygienic."

"Ja. Ja, I see." He sighed even more heavily.

"Is your lordship certain zat—?"

"I sometimes misses de cats what I used to haves," explained Toki.

Jean-Pierre considered. "Well, my lord, zere are no cats in ze Mordhaus, but you could go and feed ze yard wolves, oui?"

So Toki had taken a plate of steaks out to the yard wolves and tossed meat to them, only to learn that this resulted in them fighting each other to the death for it. Sighing even more and wiping flecks of wolf blood from his face, he had gone back inside just in time for the day's recording session, only to be criticized by Skwisgaar for his playing, Knubbler for his amp buzzing, and Murderface for using the same air as the bassist.

As was often the case, the session degenerated into everyone squabbling and not accomplishing much of anything. No one noticed when Toki slipped out of the studio and made his way back to his own room.

Now, having returned, he didn't know what to do. He wasn't tired enough to sleep, wasn't in the mood to build model airplanes, and most definitely didn't feel inclined to seek out any of the others for company.

He threw himself down on his bed, burying his face in his arms. The tears that had threatened to spill over all day finally did, coursing down his face and moistening his moustache. Eventually he looked up, hoping that his gaze would fall upon something interesting enough to take his mind off his woes. The only thing to really catch his attention, however, was the shine of the black-button eyes of his Deddy Bear.

"Oh, Deddy Bear, wills you at least be's my friend?" he asked forlornly, wiping his eyes. He rolled over and set Deddy Bear down on his chest. "What's dat? You wants to knows hows mine day went?"

He reached up and made the stuffed bear nod its head.

"Okays, I tells you. Firsts, that dildos Skwisgaar—" He broke off and turned toward the door, thinking someone was approaching. But no, after a moment of waiting in silence, he decided that he must have been imagining it.

"Whats was I sayings, Deddy? Oh, dat ams right. Skwisgaar gots all mads at me even though I ams only making de joke, and den Nat'ans yelled at us, and den Moidaface threatens me with his big knife, and Pickles saids dat mine guitarsplayings ams dildos, and, and—" He sniffled and wiped his eyes again. "And dens Nat'ans yells at me some mores, and everybody yells at me, and de yard wolves, I tries to play with dem but dey ams just killings each other. Maybe I shoulds just be leaving and makes everyone happy."

Since Deddy Bear did not contradict this, Toki wiped his eyes again, got up, and pulled a suitcase from under the bed, the old battered suitcase that he'd brought when he'd first come to Mordhaus, and began pacing around the room, trying to decide what to take. There wasn't much he wanted. He knew his airplane models would break in transit, and most of his clothes were identical. He settled for throwing a few shirts, some socks and underwear, and a clean pair of pants into the suitcase, then turned back to Deddy Bear.

"I never meants to makes him mads at me, you knows," he said sadly, setting the stuffed toy on top of the poorly-folded clothes and turning to his closet to see if any of the contents was worth taking along. "Just was trying to make feels better."

Skwisgaar stood outside the door, biting his lower lip, palm still against the door as when he had frozen upon first hearing the Norwegian mention his name.

"But now I wills be going," came the small voice from the other side of the door, even more dejectedly. "Maybies if I cannot plays de dildos guitars, den I cans at least makes hamburgers or somethings."

Skwisgaar sighed and pushed the door open. "Toki?"

The brunette whirled around. "Whats?"

"What ams de matter, little Toki? You seems, shalls we say, little unhapppies all day."

Toki threw himself back down on the bed.

"What ams dis?" asked the lead guitarist, feigning surprise at the sight of the suitcase. "You ams leaving us?"

"Was thinking abouts," said Toki, sulking once again.

"Pfft, that ams dildos idea." Skwisgaar moved the half-filled suitcase easily to the floor and sat down on the bed next to Toki. As an afterthought, he took Deddy Bear from the suitcase and sat him down on Toki's shoulder. "And your bear woulds be sad."

"Why ams dat?" asked Toki, looking up, genuinely curious.

"Because he woulds miss me," proclaimed Skwisgaar.

"Woulds not."

"Woulds too."

"Woulds not."

"Woulds too!"

"Ams doubtful," said Toki with a resentful sniffle.

"Ams a poss-skibility," said Skwisgaar.

"Maybies."

"See, I knew you woulds be comings around." Skwisgaar began to stroke Toki's hair gently, brushing away a strand that fell into the Norwegian's face.

"You really not mads at me?"

"Nej, little Toki. It ams what called keepings up de appearances. Well, mostlies."

"You means, if you _don'ts_ get mad when I calls you de ladies, the others ams will be getting suspicious?"

"Ja, exactly."

"Oh." Then his face fell. "But the others, they ams still mads at me."

Skwisgaar snorted. "The others, they ams all hung over. Dat ams why they all has 'headaches'."

"But dey all hates me. Everything hates me."

"Nej, Toki, you ams just having a bads day." Skwisgaar leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.

"You still loves me?"

Skwisgaar looked pained. "I am...still thinking you ams not so dildos, ja."

Toki considered. Coming from Skwisgaar, at least, that was practically the same thing.

"Okays."


End file.
